


Bayonet

by Archerylefty



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Dark Humor, Drug Use, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inappropriate Humor, Pain, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sarcasm, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archerylefty/pseuds/Archerylefty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. 1st person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1st person study from multiple characters point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FUBAR

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite antihero actually was having some luck for once. Will he survive, will he find love or at least lust. Read and find out this is very character driven. no Mary sues. no easy outs. 
> 
> I am not English major but I will make an attempt to get the grammar and punctuation within reasonable limits. I also am not a soldier or backwoodsman but I did attempt to research as best as I could. The same to be said with the medical stuff, but I have slightly more knowledge in that arena. 
> 
> This is for fun folks no flames please. If you don't like then don't read but kindly constructive criticism and reviews are much appreciated. Other than that carry on and have fun. Oh yeah, Merle is a southerner but I most certainly am not. That being said I tried to make his head space be similar to what it might sound to a southerner. I've always thought that those of us who have more distinct accents may not sound that way to ourselves. Therefore, I'm not going to extremes in that area. Hah!

Bayonet

Chapter 1

Merle POV.

"I ain't gonna beg. I ain't begging you!"

I looked into the governors emotionless blue eye, and although my battered body was screaming a litany of curses at him. I had lost so much that I had to keep my pride and go down fightin' like a Dixon; tough and stubborn to the bitter end. The gun rang out hit me in the chest and played ping pong in my insides careening through like a drunk on payday before crashin' through my back. The only problem with that idea was that impossibly this was not my end. To hurt this much and not die. Well that's just fuckin' wrong . . . I WANTED to die now. Ya make an entrance, do your job and if you do it well, then you get to make an exit. If not, then you go out on your terms. There's no place for me in this world, not anymore. The governor sees me as a traitor to be killed and officer friendly's group sees me as the Devil. Someone to keep around and use for the dirtiest of work. Where can I fit? So I will take myself out on my terms. I ain't gonna go down to crazy eye's level (hmm I like that name). Too bad I won't be here to use it. I like to name people in my own way helps me own 'em a little bit. But maybe if I take out enough of crazy eye's fighters . . . jus' maybe Daryl will be okay and maybe (that's a big maybe) all will be forgiven on their end. Me? I'll be past caring. Well that was the idea anyway. Turns out even the best constructed military plans go awry. And the military couldn't handle ole Merle anyway. Huh.

To understand this you have to rewind this crazy world a couple of days. Bear with me. Ya know you can't avoid the Dixon charm. Huh? Hooked like a fish now aren't ya. Anyone will tell ya I'm a selfish ol' bastard. I won't deny it, call me anything but soft, but my baby brother will always come first with me. He's still got a chance and I will do anything for him, maybe I can make up for not being there for him when he was a kid.

He is all I've ever had. I wasn't a good brother to him. I wasn't there when he wanted me, needed me. But I loved him always thought of him. Even when I was gone, I thought of him, Imagined what he'd say to shit, I was doing. I wasn't old enough to raise him. We're 8 years apart, too much to really grow up together but too little for me to really be able to raise him. Havin' him kept me from having a bullet for lunch several times. Come on look at me, who in their right mind thinks I should take care of a kid (and people think I'm stupid . . . right). Some simple minded piece of shit that's what you think . . ..yes? Except that's not true, I think, I feel. I have to work with the hand I've been dealt. As I tole Michonne I only have one. Too bad it's not a very good one. But I've always been good at making the best of nothin', that's all I've ever had. Daryl bein' the greatest exception to that.

Our Daddy was a drunken bastard dumb as a box of rocks and loved to cause a hurtin, especially on his family. Daryl and I are covered in belt marks courtesy of that evil sonofabitch. I hoped that when I left he would stop hitting, since I always couldn't stop myself from instigating the stupid bastard. I think now I was hidin' the ugliest of truths from myself but not smart enough to see it right before my eyes & powerless to prevent it. Daryl paid the price for that mistake and I see my sins on every scar etched in his back by my Daddy's belt. No matter that I have at least double the marks he does. That don't matter; he shouldn't have any marks. He was a good kid, sweet, only wanted to please. In another family he woulda' been perfect. As a Dixon he was a pussy. I worked hard to toughen him up so he'd be Okay when I had to leave. I knew it was only a matter of time. So I taught him to hunt and track to live off the land, to survive alone in the woods. I hope I raised him well enough. Who knew those were exactly the skills we need for surviving a fuckin' zombie apocalypse.

Our Momma was a sad lumpish housewife who tried to drink away the bruises and broken bones. Easier than to get up off her butt and actually stop all the abuse. She finally ended herself when Daryl was about 10 by passing out with a lit cigarette in bed and setting herself afire. What she gonna do? High school sweetheart, dropped out to be a mommy. She must have had shit for brains to put up with the crap that my Daddy dished out.

It was all of my fault ya know. I was too loud & mouthy, didn't like to listen & too damn smart for my own good. I remember how she loved Daryl for about 2 days until he cried at night. She started to shake him she was so afraid of Daddy waking up. He screamed and screamed and I woke up just in time. She was shaking him and instead just tossed him on the bed where she cried and cried. I told her it's ok I'll watch him. So I started watching him at night and I failed 3rd grade. Picture of maternal concern was my Mamma. Couldn't sleep at home, much easier to sleep at school. See you can't judge a book by its cover I don't actually eat babies for lunch, am quite good with them. I actually like to hold 'em. It's just that their Mothers don't like the look of me (not that I can blame them, even I have to admit that I avoid the mirror more often than not).

That was the spring Daddy first really took a chuck outta my hide. Still have scars right over my shoulder blades and I believe that was my first dislocated shoulder too. That was a pretty bad one. My left was always weaker since then. Luckily I was right handed (yeah up until officer friendly and T Dog got ahold of me) but I digress.

I've always been a selfish bastard and ruthless. I gotta do what I gotta do. But taking Michonne to Woodbury to be torture surprise for governor. Nah, it didn't taste too good no more, she was a fine Nubian queen ummhmm fine as they come might even look past her obvious racial flaws. Maybe Mouse is right and I am a late bloomer. Things that were okay a month ago don't sit so well. Yahuh those 16 people I've killed since the dead began to walk I remember them. I don't regret so much but I remember and know that maybe someone misses them. I try not to think about it much. Gotta do what I gotta do to survive this fucked up world & to have a place and a function.

So being a dumbass I kick Michonne out of the car and make it my own party. I just can't lower myself to the governor's level knowing what he will do. I might be a real piece of work and I often don't understand why I come to the decisions I do, but it's done come time to take a stand. I may not live to see Daryl again but I can choose a good way to end this sorrowful life of mine. This way it will mean something. Something that if it goes down right and I get to make an exit in the confusion; I have a small chance to survive. Maybe. Let's see if I'm as good at this shit as I think I am.

So how to make a good diversion to buy me some time to take my shots. I find a bunch of geeks and herd them to Woodbury. Damn slowest idiots ever. Shit thought I'd run outta gas. Fuckin pied piper of walkers huh. So I finally get there with my little bunch of admirers. I take cover and set up my ambush in an old warehouse. I put my rifle out the window, still a little clumsy as I have to sight out of my right eye but have to use the trigger with my left hand, my only hand. Adjusting the sights and shooting is fucking awkward one handed.

I start to think my little game of distracting the governor's thugs with my little herd of hungry admirers is gonna work. I start picking the stupid bastards off while they are busy. I keep moving window to window so they don't draw a bead on me until I get them all. I am so close to getting the governor as well but then unfortunately one of the walkers found me and attacked me while I was sniping and I got revealed. Nearly got kicked to death too. I was surrounded by the dumbasses that I used to lead and they took pleasure kicking the shit outta me. I covered my head with my hand and little Merle (yup, I named my prosthetic – seems more a part of me that way, ya know?), but I still took some damage. I felt a rib go but protected my head somewhat. Then governor showed up. "leave him to me"

He tussled me a bit. Broke another rib, choked me. Never thought he was so strong. He's taller but I thought I was meaner as well as stronger turns out I was wrong. As he was beating the living shit outta me, the coldness in his eye chilled me to the bone. He was dead to the core of his being, more so than the corpses. I wonder how he hid that behind his politeness and cold charm that never quite seemed right. He might have only one eye but I was the one who was blinded. Typical Merle dumbass bullshit, throwing in for the wrong thing and forgetting what was important. We tussled and he beat my face in (think I felt another few bones give way).

Then he bit my smallest two fingers off of my remaining hand. REALLY! He enjoys being cruel and brutal does the governor. Now I truly want to die. I can't be a cripple. How does one survive with that much damage to your hands? I refuse to be seen as weak. No one knows how hard I have to work at not seeming gimpy with only one hand, even with the bayonet (have you ever tried to tie your boots one handed or do your belt. Or even cut yer food and eat without looking like an animal - Not Easy.) Then he grabbed my bayonet arm and yanked it opposite of the elbow. "SNAP" there goes the bone above the elbow. Right above the metal supports. Shit shit shit that fuckin'' HURT!

I refuse to beg and I refuse to be a cripple but I'm too broken to use a gun anymore, my plans gone to shit. BUT I WONT BEG, I won't be defeated. I just hope what I did is enough. Goodbye Daryl you always were the sweet one; the smarter one, and I love you even if I couldn't say it. One of my earliest lessons in this cruel world was that you have to be tough to survive all the ugliness and at times fight back with ugliness of your own. No I don't think that it is enjoyable it's just what I hafta do to be a survivor. Ain't as cold as most people think. Even a trashy redneck like me has to have some pride. Damn. So I won't beg and I say so.

"I aint gonna beg. I ain't begging you!"

"No Merle. Ya won't never have to beg not while I'm here." Said Daryl who just snuck in, he fires a bolt at the governor hitting him high in the chest as he turns to his blind side, dropping him to the floor.

Bang the governor's gun goes off and hits me mid chest at an angle

Oww my chest, shit is that what a heart attack feels like? I can't fucking breathe. It hurts. It hurts. Why can I still feel it? The force spins me and throws me down to the floor.

What? Why are you here baby brother!

He told me later he hit governor with a bolt. Right in the chest just like me. But he was too concerned about keepin me breathing to care about endin him.

"Damn pussy Darlina, whatchya here for. Just lemme be. I'm no good now".

"Shut up shut up. Just breathe. Gotta stop the bleeding here hold this wrapper. Your chest sucks (yes I snickered)." As he packed my chest and back wounds full of crap so I wouldn't bleed out.

Darlina leave me leave me why are you dragging me you stupid motherless asshole. What are you doing? OHH the Nubian queen she came to help.

I found out later she followed him the only reason they caught up to me were the damn slow geeks and me playing pied piper of walkers. It's funny that the walkers in some crazy ass way saved ole Merle for the ladies (humph).

So what do you folks think? Should I continue? If I do I will make every attempt to update at least once a week. My rationale here is that Merle bled out, he could have survived if Daryl was nearby and he was; those walkers are stupid and SLOW. Merle is onion boy as is Daryl, with lots of layers that I want to explore. I plan on this all being first person from multiple POV and one OC added but no Mary Janes. I might get a little OOC but that is expected with growth character development and Merle being forced to grow. OH yeah Merle has a potty mouth. So do I. This is my first fanfiction. Im doing this for fun, so constructive criticism is great but flames are not. I wouldn't do that to you so don't do it to me. That is all; carry on and have fun. 

ArcheryLefty


	2. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1st person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1st person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite antihero actually was having some luck for once. 
> 
> What will Daryl do? Can Merle make it back to the prison? Will he survive? Read and find out. Also, If you read even a little please give me reviews, suggestions, and especially constructive criticism; but be nice and try to be kind. I will try to do the same for other authors. I need to know how to improve. This is after all my first fanfiction. No one sees their true self by looking in the mirror after all. Sharing is caring. Enjoy folks & thanks in advance

Chapter 2

In the midst of the chaos that I created, the governor's people did not care about one crappy old car moving slowly. The Nubian Queen was driving me "home" to the prison as Daryl stubbornly tried to stop my bleeding and keep me breathing. Guess he learned something from hunting and our abusive home life (you guessed it; he has patched me up many times). You sometimes get a deer & it is shot through the chest, runs off and suffers, bleeding out, dying from shock as the lungs collapse and air builds up around the lung. This results in too much pressure in the other lung and on the heart. The animal bleeds out or suffocates, but it takes a while. If the lungs don't collapse the animal (or human) can live long enough to bleed to death in agony. I taught Daryl to never let that happen because it seems agonizing.

Now I know it is agonizing. It is so much harder to live in pain and struggle against devastating wounds. Dying would have been the easy part, guess I'm too damn stubborn or stupid to die. Would have literally been the first time I did something the easy way out. It felt as though I was torn apart from the inside. I was getting cold from blood loss. Daryl was screaming at me and calling me soft. But somehow he sealed the sucking wounds and I was still breathing and swearing a stream of inventive cussing only an angry redneck biker would be able to come up with.

I had told him a story of when I was in the marines and one of my fellow soldiers was shot through in the field. The medic applied airtight dressings on his back and semi airtight on the front leaving one side free. It stabilized the lungs until we got him into a hospital & he survived. All they had to do was control his bleeding & lung pressure and hope he didn't die of an infection. Damn him Daryl knew exactly what to do. That boy coulda been so smart if he had finished school but he only has a 10th grade education just like me. That's what ya get when ya grow up in the backswords Dixon clan. He saved me and I didn't really want to be saved. It's hard work healing from nasty injuries like these, and there is always the possibility that I will always be gimpy. When I get moving again I'm gonna kick your ass into tomorrow baby brother.

I'm most worried about having two fingers now gone from my remaining hand. How the hell am I supposed to be able to do all the shit that I've always done when I'm missing most of my fingers. I'm going to be clumsy as shit and will be a liability because others will see me as a cripple and the weak link. I'd see someone that way who is missing most of their fingers. FUCK. This is gonna just' be nearly impossible. Then again I ain't ever been soft. There is some benefit from being underestimated. Just like most people think me a dumb hick, so obviously wrong if someone takes time to know me. I prefer to not give them the chance to see how smart I really am because I can out think most people. So many equate education with intelligence; when most college educated snooty bastards can't out think me. That's why I hated the military.

I don't feel angry anymore now I feel sleepy and calm, I dream, Daryl is a toddler, I'm almost 11 just starting to grow into my size, I'm showing him the fish in the stream and he is laughing his baby laugh, trying to catch the fish in his hands he almost falls in but I catch him, already fearless and loving being outside. "Don't worry brother I've got you, ain't never gonna let you go. You're the only one I've got." Then it hits me. . HE hits me. . . This is now and he won't let me be, He won't let me go, won't let me rest. I'm so tired; damn you, can't you just let me fukin' rest. My chest hurts, my back, my hand, my ribs hurt, my arm hurts, it's hard to breathe each breath feels like my lungs are chewing up glass. But surprisingly enough I'm still breathing my heart is still beating and the bleeding is slowing down.

"Hold on got some walkers up ahead", she guns it and smooch goes the fuckers in the way. Again I dream, it's raining pounding against the cheap tin roof, the holes in my shoes smoosh mud up through my toes (incidentally I HATE being barefoot) I've always equated being on top of the food chain with wearing boots. I'm hearin' my old man crashing around in a drunken state yelling at my mom. I'm 15 or so Darlyina is 7 being a pain in the ass, he just got his umpteenth concussion from the old man and a bloody nose to boot. Stupid kid, why did he have to pour the beer out? When is he gonna learn some brains. I'm not going to be around forever. I care about him, but I gotta get outta here or I'm gonna kill the bastard. My back is still healing from last week and I still have bruises around my throat from being choked. Why do I have to raise him? I'm only 8 years older. ; I don't know nuthin' bout kids. I want to join the military and learn how to put some hurtin' on someone who deserves it and never never be on this end of the pain. What do I do about the kid? He deserves it less than I do. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one but lots of Merle/Daryl brotherly love. Please review and let me know what you would like to see. I might try to work it in. You know what they say sharing is caring. If I feel motivated I might have enough for a couple more chapters this weekend sound good? Merle (so obviously is my favorite) I love how they are both complex incredibly undervalued people; smart yet uneducated. Self taught; I really respect that. I'm apraxic so my grammar and typing may at times be assbackwards. Like the Dixons Im way more than what I appear. 
> 
> ArcheryLefty


	3. Bleeding Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1st person crazy headspace with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1st person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also like getting into Daryl's headspace. The frustration and love that are wrapped around another and of course the angst he feels around Carol. The OC is not me. But a little of me is in her. We are both moms and work in therapy she is very calm in face of stress more likely to dive in and kick booty then run away. She has a complex past you will see. Suggestions? She is not a Mary Sue; she can be a brat but is passionate in what she believes. Keep the reviews coming. let me know what to change, how my style reads, help me grow as a writer please I see reviews as candy Yummm.
> 
> Thanks in advance.
> 
> ArcheryLefty

Bayonet

Chapter 3

"OPEN THE DAMN GATE"

The car careens inside and Maggie and Glenn are cursing

"Why the fuck did you bring him back. He was going to hand her over hasn't he done enough"

Daryl snaps back at them "Yes he might have given his life now shut the fuck up. HERSHEL! Someone gets him now!

The world goes black and peaceful. I get the first good sleep that I've got in too long, maybe since the rooftop in Atlanta. Hope they're giving me some good drugs cus lord knows I deserve them. I am suddenly airborne. I fly far away on my dreams. Goodbye baby bro.

Daryl POV

He survived the trip and that's more than I expected I can't believe that duct tape and a piece of plastic bag done sealed his holes up in his chest & back. I helped him breathe and when he's well enough I'm gonna tell him what a good kisser he is. He is just so broken, never seen someone take such a bad beating and then get shot right through the chest, lose yet more fingers and live. Hershel's trying to find a donor. Wouldn't ya know that he is a universal donor - whatever the fuck that is? But that means they can receive only one blood type and go figger it's not mine.

IF ANYONE KNOWS THAT THEY HAVE TYPE O- BLOOD PLEASE STEP forward so that Merle here does not make the ultimate sacrifice of giving his life. He has a bad chest wound but can make it if we take good care of him.

"I do!" That's the new chick with the brats, she's big looks healthy. Merle likes them that way junk in the trunk, he likes cushion for the pushin he used to joke.

Hershel starts needling her. She looks calmer than I gave her credit for. "Hey thanks. I'm Daryl. That's ma brother, Merle.

"What happened to him?"

He went and did something damn stupid - tried to take out the Governor"

"He's pretty tough though huh. I'm amazed he survived a shot to the chest like that"

"Yeah he is. Too stubborn to die. Proud too, pain in the ass most of the time, my brother".

"My name is Skya"

"What kind of name is that?"

"What kind of name is Daryl or Merle" (smiles)

"Family names I think"

"My nickname"

"Your real name?"

"Don't use it now"

"Why"

"Why not?"

"You have kids."

"Observant kind of guy I see."

"Their Father?"

"Gone. All of my family is gone. Just me and the rugrats. I think"

"Sorry. How did it happen? As I watch, she tears up but smirks and looks away."

She turns back with a hard look in her blue eyes.

"I can't talk about it yet. It doesn't matter how. It happened and as much as I wish it, I can't make it unhappen. So life goes on we mourn but we have to live life for the living. It is what it is. All I can do is my best I drove and drove with the kids and ended up here. Took a truck full of stuff from a supermarket and drove until I found you people. I followed the convey over from Woodbury after the Governor went batshit. I have medical training to help Hershel & he has agreed to teach me. He needs someone else who can learn to suture and isn't squeamish."

"What kind" I ask

"Huh?"

"Medical training?"

"Oh right; I was an OT"

"What?"

"Occupational therapist." (A what? I think as she continues) "I helped people heal broken bones, learn to compensate while they were healing and be more independent. Get stronger, return to life maybe not the same, but still filled with quality. I loved it. I was good at it too. Hershel asked that I help take care of your brother, but I wanted to talk to you first. I will help take care of him if you let me".

I consider, he needs someone like her from the sounds of it. But Merle is very private and will not want to depend on a woman especially for private needs.

"Might could"

"Huh?"

"You're a Yankee" I laugh at her.

"No shit! But thank you"

"That was a question"

"No that was a statement"

"Where y'all from?"

"Ohio near the lake"

"I'm Proud to be a Yankee I guess. My family was from Maine too. Spent lot of time there as a kid."

"DARYL!" (Carol appears) I start to walk away from Skya who is still bleeding for my brother. I'm feeling a slight sense of relief. Merle might actually have a chance at survival with Hershel and Skya helping him; that others may actually NOT want him to die. I favor Skya with a slight smile. Before I turn away to see what Carol needs.

"Hey Skya thanks. Good to meet you and uh welcome", I thank her, but don't really know what to say.

"Sure later then", she says.

"Hey, Carol" I say as I catch up to her, she looks understandingly concerned. My heart beats faster as I walk up to her. Even now I feel awkward around her. If she could only read my mind; it would relieve me from having to put my thoughts into words. Always so uncomfortable for me, but if it's one thing that I have learned from the dead rising; (the Bible pegged it but I don't think this is what it had in mind) is that I can't be a hermit no more. We have to do this survival thing with people. I tole that to Merle before he ran off like a damn fool with Michonne, nearly got his simpleminded self killed. I can't wait till he is better so I can kick his dumb ass before I embarrass him half to death by hugging him.

"So glad you're back what happened" she asks as I walk up to her.

"My idiot brother attacked the Governor and nearly got hisself killed. He might still die Hershel's not sure yet'

Carol puts her hand to her mouth and gasps "I'm so sorry, I wish I could tell you it's going to be okay. You know I'm here for you whatever you need. He's not a good man but he doesn't deserve this. This really stinks".

She starts pacing

"Yeah it does" I can't help it she always makes me smile. She has the oddest energy; calming to me but she is so often antsy; almost bursting out of herself with energy even if it is quiet energy. I don't know how to explain it. Helps me feel better in my skin, less awkward maybe.

"You Okay?" she asks

I shrug "Don't know but thanks for asking".

"Sure"

"Let me know if I can help"

"Thanks I'm fine for now. Hershel's working on him. I can't go far I gotta help hold him". She puts her hand on my arm. As always, I flinch a little, but she of all people understand why it's not personal. I lean into her a little and smile.

"Is she donating blood? That new woman?" she asks as I begin to walk toward where Hershel is treating Merle.

"Yeah. Universal donor or some such shit"

"Nice of her."

"Yeah. She has medical training too, might help Hershel with Merle".

"You trust her?"

"How would I know but she can help save him. Who am I to refuse that? I will be keeping close watch on her though. I think she could use help protecting her little ones too. I can't turn away a woman with little kids."


	4. HUMPTY dUMPTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1st person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1st person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 note: I apologize in advance for medical jargon, but I work in a medical field and when I write about medical subjects. I sometimes get into that head space which is never too far from the surface anyway. However, I did try to tame it a bit. I just wanted my wonderful readers to know that is the exception but not the rule. Bear with me, Hershel thinks like a MD. Merle is a noodle we wont get much from him. Daryl is freaking and Hershel god bless him is holding everyone together. Lets hope others can show him some common (not so common) human decency. Please review review review. Let me know how I'm doing here it motivates me to continue. To my wonderful reviewers thanks so much. You are helping me keep this up. I love writing. You are helping me continue.
> 
> Also . . .
> 
> So Merle is a hot mess-of course he is. What do we expect out of a guy who is always diving in without using his very intelligent brain. I love Merle but sometimes I could just shake him and ask him how someone who is quite intelligent can be such a dumbass? Sheesh! I'm sure Daryl agrees with me. He is saying "Yeah try living with him all yer life". So question is can Hershel glue our Humpty together again? Will Humpty behave or sit still long enough. Merle has a lot to think about once he wakes up. How he said "I. CANT. go. back." but so obviously really wanted to . . . I will post again before Monday. Please read and review. 
> 
> Huge shout out to TheSparrow93 for Reassurance delving into Merle's upbringing prior to Daryl's birth and why we never see him with his shirt off either. Shout out to those who have been bolstering my attempts at writing with reviews. Keep them coming and suggestions will be appreciated and used thanks so much love ya all!

Hershel's POV.

So Merle had to try to take out the Governor's men and kill him. He probably planned to die trying and make up for past mistakes. If I have a measure of Merle and I believe I do. He is not as cold-hearted as he would have people believe but He also is unable to make any connections with people outside of his own family.

Daryl, Rick and Michonne carried Merle in from the car and attempted to gently drop him into my bed. Maggie & Beth are working on setting up my cell into a surgical area to treat him. As I examine the poor fool, up goes, IV bags, units of blood, they set up scalpels, sutures, restraints (hopefully not needed), a crude sling and swathe for his handless arm that is even now sticking out at an angle and needs to be set. Water is being boiled for his care in the kitchen.

The whole prison is buzzing with activity as we prepare to save this sorry excuse of a man. Carol is caring for Judith so Beth and Maggie can assist me with any surgery. Skya watches from an extra cot while donating her blood and Daryl waits for my direction; looking both horrified and hopeful. He sits by Merle who is twitching with pain and shock, mumbling in his dreams. He touches him on the few areas that are not injured, touching his face and left shoulder; smoothing his hair. Talking to him softly love shining out of his eyes. He had probably never expected to see his brother again.

Fresh linens are being washed, clothing that will fit Merle being found (preferably minus the gore and miasma of walker foulness). Carl and Michonne are hauling water to clean his stinky self and keep the possibility of infection down. As I prepare to begin, Rick brings in a gurney to take him to the infirmary when he is stable enough to leave my cell (aka the ICU).

"Daryl I will need you to cut his shirt off and gently remove his prosthetic, but try not to move his arm too much son. Maggie and Beth please stay near and help me move him so I can examine him".

He is going to have a hard time healing because he doesn't know how to rely on others. He has to be the one with the upper hand and he has always relied on his fighting or hunting skills to give him the upper hand. Most people see him as a dumb redneck jerk. And he is. But he also has a razor wit and sense of humor as well as his own sense of honor. Not a bad man but a man with an ambiguous moral compass who followed his need to survive and to protect his younger brother in a world gone mad.

Daryl snips his dirty overshirt and undershirt off revealing a very pale chest, very thin but well muscled. Excellent physique for a man who had to be entering his fifties. What surprises me although maybe it shouldn't, is the amount of old scarring on his chest and a huge burn on the left side of his stomach just visible over the rim of his pants. He stinks horribly. Daryl catches my eye and raises an eyebrow clearly non verbally stating "don't ask trust me you don't want to know". So I see that he was the protective older brother. Daryl has many scars, but Merle is positively covered in them. Some of them layered where lightning so to speak has struck more than once.

So let's see. Massive contusions all over. Massive chest wound sucking with narrowly missing the pericardium and heart. Can't believe his luck. Hit mid sternum cracking it skidding off to the right under the skin looks like it entered the chest cavity through ribs 4&5 breaking them front and back as well as nicking upper lobe of liver and diving through the middle lobe of the right lung before exiting though the back 2 inches beside the spine cracking the border of his scapula. The bleeding is controlled by Daryl's dressings. Infection and keeping the lung pressurized will be the biggest problem here. He is lucky though, he doesn't look like he is bleeding internally, he isn't getting distended or loosing blood pressure.

What else. Right arm broken mid humerus likely out of alignment very nasty will need some traction to reduce the fracture but thankfully doable. Won't be using that arm for quite a while. Will need sling and swathe to tie it into his body might help to support his rib fractures as well. Pneumonia will be a huge concern. He will need massage and reminders to work at expanding those sore ribs and lung.

His remaining hand looks like two more fingers missing. Torn off? How in the world is he going to manage with only a thumb and two fingers? He is not a man who is able in any way to ask for help and yet he will need help. Might have a broken jaw and cracked orbital bone too.

Well my girls and Skya will help and so will Daryl. It's amazing he survived at all. Well better get going we've got a lot of work to do.

Skya finishes donating while I'm examining Merle and beginning to clean him up. He is a mess! We certainly have gotten used to a new degree of dirty since the dead began to walk. No one flinches at being covered in gore. Where before we were worried about pathogens; most of us understand that life is short and no one worries about a long-term illness anymore. Still it's hard to know where his bleeding is and where the extraneous gore ends Turns out Daryl's field dressings were good, luckily he was able to find a plastic bag and some duct tape and apply seal to both wounds so he could breathe.

Daryl waits for further direction as I listen to Merle's heart "he's stable for now but I have to put a chest tube in to get the air out of his chest cavity. "

"Daryl I need you to hold him steady. He is unconscious but not completely out of it."

Now insert a hollow needle between intercostal space between his upper ribs I hear a leak and he begins to breathe more regularly, his blood pressure begins to rebound. Merle moans and starts pushing against Daryl.

"Its ok big brother I'm here I'm not going to let you go. Stop being such a pussy, you can take this. This much whining from a guy who cut his own damn hand off?"

I shake my head I will never understand "Dixon love" but it's clear that they have a deeper bond than most siblings do. I put his chest tube in and seal it to his chest, he moans with the incision but breathes better and his heart rate becomes more stable with the evacuation of the rest of the extraneous air in his chest cavity outside of the lung. I set up a bag of blood to increase his blood volume especially given that we won't know more about internal injuries until his bowels move.

I assess the entrance and exit wounds and I notice that the back wound has cloth sticking out of it. I remove the cloth and open the wound up to remove the rest of the fragments of the bullet and irrigate the wound. Then I pack them again with a sterile dressing. They will bear some careful ongoing observation for infection, deep wounds like that will have to be cleaned changed and repacked every other day at the most.

"OK I will need some assistance setting this arm" Maggie I need you holding his body and Daryl I will need you to hold his stump and elbow and guide his arm as I say - a gentle traction should do it. Looks like his arm was forced behind him and his humerus snapped under the pressure. "

At that point he begins to wake up and he starts screaming.

"Oh hell no yer NOT pulling my arm off. Get off me Daryl what the hell is wrong with ya. That fucking hurts."

I give him an injection to put him back out. We try again and I feel it as his arm slides into place.

"Maggie honey can you make Merle a sling; something to tie his arm snug against his body he can't move any part of his arm for a while."

Now the fingers. It looks as though they were bitten off.

"Daryl, was he bitten by a walker? These stumps look like bite marks and they're crushed almost like a human bite, but I don't see any rotting like you see in a walker bite."

"No Hershel the Governor did that just before he shot him. I saw him spit them out. Never seen anythin' quite like it."

I just couldn't believe it but here is Merle with a missing right hand and a mangled left one. Now we got to clean these stumps up so he can at least get a minimal use out of them. The bones are splintered. The smallest digit is gone just below of the lowest knuckle. I take 2 cm of mangled soft tissue off and stitch the stump closed hopefully he will have some sensation. The ring finger is gone just beyond to the middle knuckle and hopefully he will have slight use of the joint even just to support his grasp a little more. I hope the governor is fastidious about his oral hygiene.

"Maggie can you set up some IV antibiotics? Merle here might have a couple of brutal infections coming his way. So we will have someone watching him at all times. He will probably be out of it for quite a while but it's important to have someone watching his breathing and to make sure he doesn't thrash around in his sleep. It's important that he doesn't lay on his right side due to the chest tube and the severity of his rib and arm fractures. He is just a mess. Daryl I would like you to take a shift, Skya you too. You have good expertise with what he needs being that you are a therapist. I need all the help I can get with him he will be a handful when he wakes.

Daryl POV:

He might just make it but he is the most injured I've ever seen him. All the fights he's been in, the drug problems, how badly Pop hurt him before he left for the military, the juvie, and jail time. The 16 months of hard time in the Military prison. He's never done a number on himself like this. He's a tough, ornery old bastard & if anyone can handle this it will be him. I just hope his anger doesn't stop him from getting better. Maybe for once in his pathetic excuse for a life he may actually listen to someone who can help him (that will be truly the next sign of the end of the world). He is not going to handle his left hand mutilation well. I don't know how to help him with that other than letting him figure things out for himself as he's always done and finding things for him to work on being that he likes to fix things.

Everyone always underestimates him because he is so obviously a simple dumb as shit redneck. Except he ain't; he just acts like one to get people off their guard and then he worms his way into their head and manipulates them. I've never seen someone so good at manipulating others. Yet he will never admit that he feels conflicted about the shit he does, (I know he is though).

It don't stop him from doing shit but he is conflicted. He is a true opportunist, my brother.

He looks so old and tired, bags under his eyes, gaunt, like he hasn't slept in a year. Likely that he hasn't, not since Atlanta, always did have lots of nightmares, he always would be looking out the window in the middle of the night when we were kids and he woke hisself up in a nightmare. He'd say "s'okay Darlina just a nightmare. It won't bite". Thinner than I've ever seen him. Still fit and muscular but aging fast. The world been so hard on him. Looks just like our Daddy but older now than when Daddy got hisself killed. I hope he'll get the care he needs. Maybe learn that it won't kill him to work with others, that he can teach people things too. But here he is in the infirmary with Skya; a mother grizzly if I've ever seen one. I hope she will put him in his place immediately or he will be the worst patient she has ever seen.

Skya is putting the kids to bed here in Hershel's cell where she can watch both them and him. We have set it up to take shifts, with mine being first. I watch her curl up with each in turn, cuddle them talk to them tell them a story sing softly. She is a wonderful Mother. I wonder how she can handle all the change she has gone through. It must be this that gives her strength. She sees me watching her and nods at me then curls up against her son. He fell asleep before she got to him and yet she still gives him the benefit of feeling her curl up with him briefly as he sleeps. Those kids are so lucky. I guess I feel a little envious. Merle and I never had that not even a little. We had to make each other tough so we would survive at all. Merle was there for me in his own way but no one was there for him. Yet maybe he drew strength from having me to be strong for, just like Skya does for her little ones. As I watch him sleep he tries as always to flip over to his right side, groans and swears in his sleep. I scoot him back to his good side. He eases back deeper to sleep and mumbles "Darlina ya pussy" then he sighs and quiets again. I doze too its been a long 2 days. I know he will wake me if he moves.


	5. Null & Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1st person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC. The OC is owned by me (much good it will do me). Much of this will be a character study and it all will be 1st person study from multiple characters point of view. I will try to keep it canon but much of it will be behind the scenes that we know best. Slight alterations will occur due to ramifications of that certain bullet going astray and our favorite anti-hero actually was having some luck for once. 
> 
> Merle is in fits and starts getting ready to wake up. This chapter is partly in Merle's dreamland, partly in his introspective state. I wonder how quickly he can offend someone? Ready, aim, open mouth insert stinky foot. Like what you're reading? Then you know how you can make me sooooooo happy. Yes review please. Like a early b-day present. (tomorrow is actually my b-day in real life LOL)
> 
> And back to our previously scheduled angst and drama :-)

Chapter 5.

Merle POV:

I dream I was flying around the prison watching Hershel, Daryl, Maggie, and the big new chick with juicy tits working on me; yanking on my handless arm broken, scarred, ugly and damn useless. How can something so useless hurt so damn much? I stopped watching when I woke up for a bit. I wonder if I had died a little while there. I started yelling and thrashing around while Daryl and Juicy Tits hold me trying to stop me from hurting myself worse. I'm actually almost crying from pain and fear (though I will never admit it) when they set my handless right arm. I hate it being touched, the stump still really fucking hurts at times. I watch as Daryl and Hershel work on me trying to put the pieces back together. I settle down and slip back into my dreams. My breathing eases and I become calm.

Daryl is 4; I'm almost 12, He is yanking on me to play with him pulling me to the woods by my right arm. I just wanna to go hunting, I'm looking for some nice squirrel or rabbit to overcome the lack of food from my useless dumb cracker parents. Against my better judgment I take him because I notice that he seems scared (what did the dumb kid do now). So I catch no squirrels but there is a rabbit in the trap. When I kill it putting it out of its misery Darlina has a fit, apparently the boy was hoping for a pet. That kid has to toughen up. I wish he wasn't so young but it's better than him loving the pet and having Daddy kill it just for the fun of seeing Daryl cry. He would do it to him too. He did it to me.

I'm 6 the kitten is standing next to my bed nibbling on my fingers of my left hand; those baby teeth are getting a bit sharp I think. Feels like needles to my fingers. I wonder what I can get the kitten to teethe on. That's the last night I had the kitten before daddy hung it in my room letting me come home to its cold dead little body and the smell of cat piss on my bed. Apparently it dared to rub up against him meowing when he was passed out. It was hungry, a kitten that my neighbor had given me for Christmas. The only Christmas gift I ever had. Somehow I never was much interested in the holidays after that.

I drift in and out of consciousness for a long time. I hear snatches of conversation some in Daryl's voice some in Hershel's, some in juicy tits' voice and oddly enough I hear children too. I'm becoming aware more and more of multiple layers of pain and restlessness all over my body; my ribs both left and right, my chest, my back, my arm, my remaining hand, my face. It especially hurts to breathe, and cough. I can't even consider lying on my back or on my right side (I hate lying on my left side with my handless arm on top). I can't remember when I hurt so badly so many places, to the point that I can't flip over on my own. Damn what a fucking pussy, weakling. I feel hot so hot then somebody helps me drink something and I thankfully pass out again; Oh drugs wonderful drugs.

Then finally I drift back. I've only swam in lakes but I've seen the ocean when I was a Marine briefly. Must a been outta my fucking mind. I should have known being in the military wouldn't set so well with me. Listening to all those dumbasses who think they are so much better n me. I showed that pussy; seeing him spit out those five teeth made it almost worth it. Again I'm getting off topic. (they must have me on really good stuff cus'I can't focus worth a shit).

I come to consciousness in waves and it's so strange. I keep hearing kids plenty of them. I hear Daryl off and on and Hershel, Beth, Juicy tits (guess I need to find out her name or I'll only think of her as juicy tits). Lots of coughing but far off.

I finally wake up and there she is just drying off pulling her shirt and bra up over her shoulders. I haven't given myself away yet. I narrow my eyes and hope other southern parts don't make themselves obvious. She is a fine sight. She is tall with broad shoulders, strong, but needs to lose some weight, long dark red hair; but looky here on her right kidney one hell of a scar looks like she was shot a long time ago and they didn't have time to make it pretty. She has a nice ass and long strong legs, strong looking arms and back. Not as old as me but not that young either, musta waited to have those kids.

She finishes putting her shirt back on. Boy she has some nice juicy tits not firm but not pancakes either but nicely formed the same. Her face ain't bad to look at either but she's done caught me now and looks none too happy with ole Merle. I smirk. "Heyyy there sweetness. You're one fine looking nursemaid if I do say myself. I'm already feelin' better. Ummhmm" She smirks, glaring at me.

"Really, Must you ogle me in front of my kids?! Your brother did say that you're a real asshole. Guess I shouldn't be surprised apparently it's just who you are. You would think you never saw a naked female before but I just know that's not true. Now that your done sizing up my tits and ass would you like to know my name or do you even care if I have one."

"Sorry sweetheart, I never miss a God-given opportunity to ogle not when you got such a juicy fat ass and nice tits." I say smirking just can't resist riling her up.

"WHAT THE FUCK are you deaf as well as plainly lacking some thinking skills. Did you get kicked in the head or are you a masochist. I said not in front of my fucking kids you dumb asshole" she is spitting angry. Damn I love messing with a hot-tempered woman. She is definitely a handful in all the right ways. Damn I gotta heal fast.

"By the way my name is SKYA."

She stomps off and plops down by her boy's cot. She rubs his back "sorry honey I know I shouldn't have sworn like that try to get some sleep. Yeah I'm glad he's doing better too. His brother will be happy. Then she starts tickling him. He giggles flips over and then settles in.

Another soft voice calls her "Momma what happened" nothing sweetie that man over there woke up and do you know he has a potty mouth almost as bad as Mommy. Yes honey I know I wasn't being fair. He's hurt and just waking up. I'll try to be nicer. Somehow it's hard now for me. Get some sleep. I need to go see what he needs." She kisses her and cuddles her some more.

She then glares at me and walks over without breaking her gaze and without a word. I can almost feel her snarl at me. She comes back just plops down in a chair next to me. Now in a tank top and short pants no shoes. Doesn't she feel the cold?

Just stares at me. Even slouches down so she can stare more effectively. She has a little smirk on her face. Not sure why she's smirking, but she doesn't say a word she just watches me watching her. Finally after several minutes she speaks.

"I just know you gotta be, feeling like shit, but did you get enough beauty rest.' I snort a laugh. "Shit sweetheart there's not enough beauty sleep in the world to fix this old mug. But ole' Merle's got it where it counts. I jes need a little rest that's all." I cough and groan from the pain while I'm trying to laugh. God that hurts, that's why the smirk the wily vile bitch. I gotta admire her manipulating me; would have done something like that too.

"If you're going to laugh you might want to hold that small pillow to your chest. That usually helps with coughing and sneezing too. Before I get started try to stay off your right side. Most of the fractures are there if you roll over you'll wish you didn't"

I roll my eyes but I don't say anything

'Got some questions for me? Or should I start filling you in on what happened around here while you were out of it. Your call but if you're an asshole to me in front of those kids, I Will make you laugh again. Deal?" she smirks.

I try to sit up and face her better, but my ribs don't let me. "Hold it can we talk about . . . " Sweetheart I've a powerful need to piss I'm damned if I'm gonna do it here." She shoves something at me "urinal . . . use it" she starts to walk off. "Damn girlie will you let me get my head on straight. My hand is all bandaged can you . . ."

"You're going to have to get accustomed to managing a urinal before anything else. I'll hold the blanket up for you to place it"

Sheesh what's her damn problem. . . I'm the one who is hurt. "Damn that feels better", I sigh as I let the piss just pour out of me. How long was I sleeping anyway? She gestures impatiently at me, wrinkling her nose, "Give it here I'll empty it" she stalks off barefoot. I use the time to test what I can move and what's fucked up.

My legs seem fine just achy probably from being in bed from what I'm guessing to be a long time. My jaw is sore as is my eye but my vision is excellent as always. My left hand is bandaged and I'm beginning to remember the bastard biting two of my fingers off while we fought. If that's true this damn world just got a whole lot harder for ole Merle. While I consider my new lack of digits, she comes back calm. She sees my expression and watches me look at my hand. She gets a gentle look in her eyes and sits down next to me but looks away giving me a minute to get myself under control again. "What did you say your name is? I know you don't want me calling you juicy ... "Skya" she interrupts . . . I'm Skya Duncan.

"jeez what were your parents thinking strange name . . . did they want you to get beaten up?. . ."

"old family name I think. Scottish. . . . So what were your parents thinking with both of your names?"

"Old southern names . . . where ya from Yank . . ."

"Cuyahoga, Ohio in the snow belt."

"The what?"

"We get lots more snow than the rest of the area because of Lake Erie. I'm used to it. I loved going skiing and skating when I was little.

"You crazy?"

"Yep you guessed it, certifiable"

"You."

"Yep documented personality disorder."

"Lucky man."

"Not really."

"I know"

"And what do you think you know Juicy Tits"

" Well, I know I'm talking to a not so dumb redneck who wants to piss me off and make me dislike him. So much easier that way right? (she starts pacing. I'm beginning to think that she is moving whenever she is awake)" I know that you're loyal to your brother. You almost gave your life for him. you're brave even if you're a dumbass. You have a heart in there but you like to hide it as much as possible. You're damn stubborn and you have a sense of humor. You expect people to see you as a redneck stereotype and take advantage of them underestimating you. I won't make that mistake. I'm a direct person too, embarrassingly so. I also know all the rules that we used to know are null and void. So it is what it is."

I roll my eyes and smirk "must be some fuckin genius ya done got ole Merle here figured out . . . yeah right"

She shakes her head "whatever . . . I will just leave you to your own devices. I'm going to hang out with the rugrats"

"Did ya have somethin' to tell me . . . darlin?"

"Well if you plan to listen I was going to let you know about your wounds and the flu bug, but you obviously are not interested and I won't waste my breath if you don't give a shit. . ." she starts to turn away

"Hold on there I didn't mean nothin' go ahead and tell me what ya know."

She cocks her head and turns back clears her throat and begins to speak

"You have lots of rib fractures 2 back and front around the bullet, cracked sternum, 2 more ribs on the left we think, your middle right lobe of your lung collapsed and needed to be reinflated, your right shoulder-blade is cracked where the bullet came through, your right upper arm bone the humerus was fractured and out of place. Needed to be reset, pretty nasty too. You know about your two fingers one bitten off above the middle knuckle, may get some use out of it to stabilize your grip but your little finger was taken off just above the lowest knuckle. They are healing well and the infection seems to have cleared. You were delirious for three weeks off and on. Daryl was here for much of that time and helped me take care of you, you would get up and walk to the bathroom and eat a little but never were really with it until now.

Since then we have a bad flu going around and myself, the babies, the little kids, Beth and you are here in isolation due to the nature of the illness attacking the lungs, you are here because your lung was damaged and is still healing. I'm here because I have problems with my lungs normally and the kids are more susceptible to this bug. Hershel thinks it's some weird strain of the swine flu. Daryl went on a run to get meds from the veterinary college. A lot of people have died in their cells and started attacking others. Quite a few were put down, 2 were murdered in cold blood as well, we don't know by who. It been a busy three weeks."

"oooowee holy shit you ain't kidding. I was wonderin' why the first thing I saw when I woke was a toddler .. . Is she yours?"

"No. she belongs to all of us now. Sweet little thing. She pays a lot of attention to you. I can't imagine why. It must be your scintillating personality or cultured wit."

She says that with a smirk and a sarcastic glint in her eyes. I smirk back and start to laugh which doubles me over in pain as my ribs, sore lung and hole in my chest and back, all holler at me. She continues to speak ignoring me as I grunt and groan in pain.

I gasp out a question "So tell me your story, how did a Yankee get to be here with kids all alone?" She gets up and paces quickly "My family was visiting my sister-in-law and her family in the mountains near here. We were due to start driving back north in a couple of days but then the world collapsed. We started seeing these crazy news reports about cannibalism and how they can only be stopped by a head injury. I couldn't believe that it was real, but I found out all too soon that it was. I called my mom who was going to fly out to California to be with my sister until things stabilized. She had just gotten off the plane and met my sister. I called my sister the next day to ask that she stays there and to let her know that we were all right. That's the last I heard from either of them.

My husband's neice and nephew and their babies flew home the day before all the flights were cancelled. Lucky thing too. The day that my family died was at the end of an insomnia cycle that I go through with weather changes. I know when something is coming. My migraine saved my life that day when I went to take a nap during a meal. My husband and in-laws stayed outside while my kids were playing inside, being that they don't like the Georgia heat. I woke up to my kids running into my room screaming while the adults in my family were being torn apart by those monsters. I found a butcher knife and did what I needed to. I still can't believe I did that. But my kids and I survived at least" She stops her agitated pacing and stares out a nearby window, still and silent and far away in her thoughts, stifling silent sobs.

So many stories like that but unlike most she had the strength to survive.

"Shit girl that's a miserable story. I'm sorry to hear it"

"Thanks for saying that Merle"

She looks off into dusk for awhile, her shoulders moving "Crying won't bring them back ya know you gotta be strong for those little kids and teach them how to be tough in this goddamn awful world we got." She smirks and turns her profile to me "And to think Merle you almost showed an understanding side. How wrong I was. Get some more rest. I'll be alright".


	6. sailing on the seas of angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle vs. governor but plans goes awry and so does a certain bullet. I used 1st person crazy head space with filthy language, racial slurs and disrespecting women. In other words, the Merle we love and love to hate. Merle and all other characters from TWD are not owned by me but by AMC.   
> This chapter is meant to be more of a flow of Merle's thoughts than an organized progression of the story (I promise that will come later). Now that he's finally conscious he needs to consider his situation. The poor doofus just woke up and can barely move because of multiple significant injuries. He has a new chest piercing (all they way through), that he had not planned on. Both arms are compromised in different ways that cause his usual method of compensation impossible. What's a guy to do? . . . umm sulk and brood. Oh yeah, he has absolutely no energy so he sleeps a lot and really wishes he could stop dreaming and get some healing rest. Poor guy. he just wants to be left alone. He can't even leave himself alone. Jeez, He just needs a break already (or nine).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review so I know what I'm doing right. I love to write, Merle just jumps onto the computer screen and takes over. He almost types as poorly as I do. But he just flows onto the page; sometimes takes a bit of rearranging to state clearly what he is thinking. So let me know if you like this style. For some reason 1st person lends itself best to my thinking style. I have always liked to be told a story. Merle just wont shut the hell up. I've always had a soft spot for smartasses. But seriously I need some reviews to feel some love and learn how to write better. This is new for me and I am aware that it is obvious. THANK YOU ;-)

Merle's POV

Skya gets up and goes to help Beth with the kids as I stare up at the ceiling thinking some gloomy fuckin' thoughts even for 'ole Merle. I don' need Skya, Daryl or anyone seeing me as soft, but I ain't never been this badly fucked up before and it's going to take time for me to heal. What is messing with my head the most is that I can't go back to the way I was. After my bones knit and the lung and soft tissue wounds heal. After the wounds become the newest additions to my massive collection of scar tissue. After I cease to cough shit up like an old man, I will still have no right hand and have to rely on a mangled left hand that is missing two fingers. So two months from now or two years from now if I continue my redneck excuse for a life, I will still have more mangled stubs than useful digits.

I still will have to defend myself and look like everything is relatively normal, and I will have it no other way. I'm a survivor goddammit. I do not want to look like a target in this fucked up brutal excuse for a world. Because I know how brutal men think. I after all am one. I would do everything in my power to take advantage of a crip like me (I can barely even form those thoughts in my head). On the other hand, (yeah right), I can use being underestimated to my advantage. I've been looked at as a stupid worthless redneck all of my life, by teachers, law enforcement, military superiors and even my family.

So now I'll be seen as the crip with barely any digits and unable to defend himself (not if I have anything to say about that). I can't go back just as I told the Nubian queen, but maybe I can move forward and figure out some way around this fuckin' mess. I'm smart enough sure as shit; but am I tolerant enough. A patient man I am not! What scares the ever-living shit out of me is that I have to protect my remaining digits from any other injuries. I lose any more fingers and I truly will be a cripple in every sense of the word and I will choose between having to accept help for many things or eating a bullet

As I consider everything I grunt and moan and finally get myself to my current normal hunched over sitting position. I need to move as much as I can. I start gradually straightening my abdomen bit by bit, almost the piece by piece movement of a rollercoaster car at the carnival that Daryl and I used to sneak into every year. I lean on my hand and try to hold myself upright as a sheen of sweat bathes my body and drips from my face. Plus it feels like I've got shattered glass in my lung as if my body cries its own broken tears against the stupidity that I showed in desperately taking on the governor for Daryl's sake.

The ironic thing is that it worked; three days after Daryl, Hershel, Maggie and Skya repaired my injuries to the best of their ability; they loaded me back into the same car I nearly died in along with the smallest kids. They hid us out in the woods while the governor and his unwilling untrained army attacked my new home. I of course was insensible in the land of dreams.

It will be awhile before I can lift more than myself off the bed. In fact getting myself dressed, eating, even just flipping over in bed is going to be one hell of a challenge in itself. In fact I have so many broken bones its damn near impossible for me to find a good position to sleep, or even to turn over in bed. I ease myself to my side (grunting trying to not be obvious how bad I hurt) where the pain isn't awful and watch she and Beth play with the kids and babies for a while.

I truly hate the helplessness that lying on my left side causes, I can only grip with my left and yet I'm lying on it. I can't even throw the blanket over my ass without some painful maneuvering using my right foot to hook the blanket and toss it up to my arm where I pin it with the mangled remains of my right wrist, then I finally have it in position to grab it with my remaining stubby paw. I almost would have an easier time rolling over grabbing the fucking blanket and rolling back but Im so painful and loud that juicy tits or Daryl if he's around, will come to investigate not realizing that I don't require company. Sheesh, I'm a cranky fuck when I'm recovering from injuries; much worse than my usual cranky demeanor. I try to sleep, hoping to sleep without the usual horrifying nightmares. I drift away to the harness of my dreams.

I sleep.

I dream.

Daryl is 1 I'm 9 he is learning to walk Momma was watching him play and I come home to her sitting on the porch with wine, smokes, blocks, a stuffed dog (he loved that thing and took it everywhere). She was a quarter Cherokee, and when she sat in the sun got the most beautiful tan, I inherited our Daddy's Irish features and coloring with annoying curly hair (I keep it cropped) and tendency to grey prematurely. At least I got the taller stronger build. Daryl looks more like our Mother with his Cherokee features, tall, lanky build, and tendency to tan. We both have Daddy's angry blue eyes and hotheaded nature. Momma and I watched Daryl's baby antics for a while and then I napped. He woke me by patting me on the face with his sticky baby hands.

Momma smiled and said "he trusts his big brother. You know brothers can have a special bond, deepened by the blood they share. You look out for him now and he will look out for you when he is old enough. You're more like your Daddy and he is more like me. You can choose to be as your Daddy used to be before the drink and the fighting destroyed him, I hope you will never let his anger destroy you.

Your brother is going to need you to protect him and teach him what grandpa taught you about hunting and tracking, so if he needs to he can come to the woods to be safe. I can't stop the hittin' especially since you and Daddy provoke each other. I'm sorry honey life is hard for us all. You have to be strong and never let him see your fear or he will act like a junkyard dog"

I woke to a toddler patting my face with her sticky hands. I smiled at her and said "boo" she giggled and fell down on her diaper thick butt. "Where is your momma sweetheart? Dontcha know that people think that ole Merle likes to eat babies for breakfast? Nom Nom Nom!" I laugh with her. People don't know that I practically raised my baby brother; especially after Momma died while smoking in bed. I'm still good with little kids but no one seems to trust me around them. I guess I don't look so scary right now curled up in bed covered in bandages, barely able to move, without "little merle" protecting & weaponising my mutilated arm.

Well I gotta toughen up and start moving sometime, I groan, roll to my left and realize how bad my right side hurts when I try to push myself with my broken arm. I suck air for a little and then manage to sit up leaning on my sore left hand. Just one hot mess all over. The little girl says Boo boo? I smile at her, "yes honey I've got a boo boo but I'm better".

Skya sees me and marches over smiling but has a wry look in her eyes. "Looking better, I see" I reach for my head to itch, and Damn my hair got long, I can feel tangled curly hair at least 3 inches long. "Oh I doubt it, feels like I've got some wool on the ole dome here" – hey I know I'm fucked up to look at. I've played hard and fast and it shows, but it never matters to the ladies because I'm good in bed and I'm intimidating as fuck when I want to be, and I can laugh. She cocks her head like a bird considering what she sees "so what's first? Food or nature's call"

I snort with the humping mental image, and groan with Pain from my chest and ribs. "Serves you right dirty mind" she laughs. "Juicy tits" (I begin) "you can't even begin to fully imagine . . .jes wait till I'm better then I'll make it worth your while umm hmm but now it's time to drain the weasel" she comes over and starts to help me up. I push her away "Nah let me try it first." I lean forward and try to get to my feet & get up halfway but my knees buckle & I sit down hard. "Alright you can help me up" she wraps her arm around my waist and helps me steady myself after boosting me.

"Merle just wait a minute get your bearings. Better?" Okay take it slow. You've been out for a while" Okay I'm trying to be patient but I don't like needing help so I channel the smartass "alright juicytits I'll let you know when I need you. I don' plan on taking orders" . . . and the room spins I sag against her. I nearly vomit & all I can hear is the beating of my heart in time with the throbbing of my back and arm. She's strong and holds me steady until my vision clears. "Hey asshole next time I'll let you taste concrete. Now let's get you to the bathroom so you can as you so subtlety put it can 'drain the weasel' ". I look at her and smile I hafta say she has a certain take-no-shit style that I won't admit I admire.

She gets me there and I'm able to do the deed leaning against the wall like a pussy the whole time. Even I hafta admit I'm really off-balance because my useless broken arm is strapped to my side. Damn this sucks. Woulda been much easier to die than feel like this. I have never needed help afore I don't plan to now. I just have to be smarter to figger out how I can work things with my remaining hand mangled and my arm outta commission. My hand hurts like hell when I have to manage my boxers and pull myself out to piss. Out comes groans I can't control & a nonstop stream of creative cussin', putting me in a really shitty mood. Knowing I need her at least for now I wisely (for once) shut the fuck up. Just as wisely she doesn't comment on all the groaning and swearing she heard. She uneventfully leads me back to bed and helps me ease myself in. gets me some pain meds and I am out like a light.

I wake & smell good smells but more interesting are the sounds. I hear rubbing sounds. I look around and see Skya rubbing her back on the side of door with a big grimace on her face. Up and down up and down she really put energy in it too. She looks like she is in pain, I didn't notice but she must be sick or injured too. She groans and sees me watching her. "You alright girl? You hurt too?" I ask her.

"What? Oh no that's not it. No I just was trying to stretch my lower back." I have a medical condition that I have to keep on top of stretching sometimes helps. No worries" she smiles. What the hell? But she's not saying any more. I groan and gingerly sit up and she lets me struggle up myself. I sit up and look at her, asking "hey anything to eat? I feel like I ain't eaten in awhile." She smiles and hands me a plate. "Want to eat in bed or in a chair where your back has some support? I hand my plate back and look for the chair. " Ya-huh sounds like a plan" then I get up she moves to my right "hold on lemme try fer myself. I gotta get used to this shit" I stop before moving I learned from last time to expect dizziness at first. This time I don't pass out like a pussy. "I'm okay." I make my way slowly and painfully over to the chair. I groan while I'm sitting down. "Sheeeit. Alrighty I'm ready".

She drags a table over and puts the plate on it to my left. Now it's time to try my mangled hand out for the first time with food. She's given me potatoes, stewed tomatoes, and some kinda meat. I lift it and smell ahhh venison. "Your brother came back last night brought down a small buck, sat up the night with you but didn't want to wake you. He says you normally aren't much of a sleeper so we should let you sleep as much as you can. He found the meds for the flu victims. So we should be out of isolation in a couple of weeks more."

I notice a whole bunch of kids and Beth all looking at me while they are eating. "So how many are yours? I ask. "Two are my children Mya and Liam come meet Merle" I see a tallish boy and a little towhead girl come forward. "He is almost 11 she's going to be 8". I grunt, I'm best with little kids before they can talk back.

"foods good" I say. My hand is throbbing and the bandages around my new finger stubs make me even clumsier. She must have realized how hard it was going to be and cut my food up in small bites that a clumsy off-handed person could manage if they were drunk. Therefore I can do it too, spilling only a little. She watches but says nothing as I struggle to manage. I put the food down for a while to rest my hand which is pulsing with my heartbeat but at least is taking some of the pain away from my gunshot wounds.

She wanders off and sits down at the table with a bunch of kids and Beth the old man's daughter. She smiles and laughs with Beth, and helps the baby eat his mush, the toddler girl who woke me is spilling the milk and she wipes it up patting her on the head. Her girl and boy sit on opposite sides of her. I observe her (and her two kids watch me with similar curiosity – I smirk, they smile). She has long reddish-brown hair straight and shiny nearly down to her butt. She is quite tall, taller than most women I've been with. She is busty and curvy, could lose some weight, but I like a little cushion, not young but younger than I am. Definitely to my liking even if she is a little too tall.

She has a strong build. I know for a fact she is strong because she kept me on my feet when I started to fall. She starts in on her own food left-handed; time to time she rubs her right hip with her hand as if it hurts. Interesting. She wears a tank top with jeans and is barefoot. Odd. Her hair is pulled back in some sort of clip. I would love to put my face in her hair and nip her neck squeeze her nice tits, ummm. Gotta stop this before I get too aroused. I can't even whack off yet. Damn I hate being a crip. My hand is still pretty sore and given how my wrist stump healed it will be awhile before I'm without pain... So I need to slow down. Merle this is the first time you've been out of bed without assistance in how long I don't even know, I remind myself. But the privacy to ogle her is nice.

I get up gingerly on my own and wait until my body creaks into the right position, then I slowly head back to bed. I make it all by myself and am lying down when I groan "oh fuck me". I lay down fully on my right arm end up rolling hard onto the exit wound on my back. And now I'm seeing stars, and pulsing with pain. Skya comes over and sits next to me, putting her hand on my forehead. "Merle think. You're out of bed one day and if you fell on hard concrete you could open up your stitches or rebreak some of your healing bones. Shush let me finish before you say something shitty. If you reinjure yourself you get to have help for longer which you so obviously hate. And I don't blame you for by the way. I always hated people helping me with personal stuff too. I will be more than happy when you can do for yourself so I no longer have the kids learning all sorts of wonderful southern cussing from you. I prefer them to cuss like northerners by the way".

I clutch my side as I let out a snort. Damn the girl has my sense of humor down. Laughing hurts more than anything else right now. "Shit girl you definitely know how to get me back. I'm gonna have a reckoning with you when I'm better" She smiles "Merle I look forward to it. You know I do". She walks away and leaves me to think. I am lost in my thoughts before I realize how masterfully she manipulated me into forgetting to be angry with her. Now that's usually how I get people to lower their guard. Sometimes humor is a very effective weapon to manipulate and to outthink your opponent. Not yet sure if she sees me as an opponent. But fucked up as I am I can't afford to lower my guard around her. I watch her play with the kids for a while and then she curls up on a mattress near my bed and starts reading a book with a smile on her face. I get comfortable and I sleep (again!).

Wow monster chapter! There will be more character interaction and gradually more physicality as Merle feels better and can be more dynamic. He will be back to being a crazy, pain in the butt, asshat with the morals of a junkyard roach and humor of a looneytunes crypt critter. Enjoy (umm sorry I've had too much caffeine and too little sleep. I'm a bit over the top tonight. The time change always messes with my sleep pattern even for an mild insomniac.


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